


Dandelion Wine

by liwellen



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, carpal tunnel syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6326659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liwellen/pseuds/liwellen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had to be his hands, didn’t it? Of course it was his fucking hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dandelion Wine

The first time it happened, Adam had just moved into his dorm room in MIT.

It started as a sharp pain in his hands, a tingling sensation, but it was nothing that he couldn’t ignore. Oddly enough, he was having a more difficult time with his roommate instead – a pale, skinny boy from Southern California who insisted on sleeping with his socks on, and the window open, despite the freezing cold.

When Ronan first met Papen, he took less than three minutes to say something offensive, which, sadly, really wasn’t that much of a record. But that time, unlike the many other times Ronan had intentionally tried to offend someone, it just went completely undetected. Because as intelligent as he was, Papen was someone who understood the concept of imaginary numbers infinitely better than sarcasm or even humor, and although Adam never liked saying it, having a conversation with him usually ended with increased homicidal or suicidal tendencies.

Papen also had a strange habit of charting the weather in Massachusetts with the aid of reeking markers and massive sheets of mahjong paper that always managed to inch their way to Adam’s side of the room. When this happened during one of Ronan’s visits, he picked up one edge of the paper with his fingers, as if he was holding up a soiled sock, and commented flatly, “Your roommate is fucking wild.”

Without looking up from his book as he tried to work with numb fingers, Adam replied, “He’s just sitting right there.”

Unsurprisingly, Papen showed no acknowledgment of their conversation at all. He continued to move his ruler back and forth on his desk, drawing lines and making calculations in a furious manner, only to stop all of a sudden with a nasal sounding, “Oh. My soup.”

Ronan watched as Papen rushed out of the room while Adam kept himself busy trying to concentrate on holding his stupid pen. Even from Adam’s peripheral vision, Ronan’s judgment was evident when the smell of something burning wafted its way into the room.

Turning to look at Adam seriously, Ronan said in a grave manner, “You _need_ to get out of this place.”

Inspired by his frustration with his lack of progress, Adam rolled his eyes and threw his pen at Ronan’s face without looking. His mood brightened considerably when he heard a resounding click, and in a matter of seconds, he was tackled onto his back, desperately trying not to laugh as Ronan pinned him down. It hurt when Ronan’s knee accidentally pressed into his lower arm, and Adam tried not to hiss in pain, but it all disappeared quickly when Ronan switched tactics and started tickling him instead.

“Y-yield,” Adam choked out after an embarrassing bout of giggles. “J-Jesus, I yield.”

Ronan’s voice was completely smug as his hands finally slowed to a stop: “That’s what I thought.”

When Adam deemed it to be safe, he peeled open his eyes, and his heart swelled at the way Ronan looked straddling his lap, flushed pink and looking so damn alive. He wanted to pull Ronan down, press him close to his chest. But the numbness in his hands was a persisting kind, and it felt too much of a chore to move them according to his will. So, Adam melted his spine into the bed instead, and asked, “Can I get a kiss?”

There was unbidden exhilaration as Adam watched Ronan’s eyes darken as he leaned forward in slow motion, almost on instinct. Ronan knew that Adam had seen it, that Adam could feel his growing interest, but he kept up with a stubborn retort anyway. “I don’t know. Can you?”

When Ronan was close enough for Adam to feel the warm breath against his lips, he answered without looking away, voice soft like butter, “I’m pretty sure I can actually.”

Finally, a gentle brush of lips, a slight parting, and then Ronan was pulling away, smiling a little when Adam tried to chase after him.

“It was still nice of you to ask,” Ronan said in a low voice. “Aren’t you just a fine gentleman?” The words were punctuated by a dirty roll of his hips, slow as a sunrise. Adam could barely suppress a needy groan.

But before they could do anything else, something thudded against the door, and Papen stumbled back in with a green ceramic bowl and a sorrowful look on his face.

“I burnt my soup,” he announced to no one in particular, sniffling from his cold.

As if on cue, Ronan slid off Adam’s body with a frustrated noise, grumbling something inappropriately violent but, in all honesty, Adam wasn’t listening to a single word – couldn’t even if he wanted to. Instead, he was too busy curled up on his side, willing his body to calm down.

By the end of it, he had almost convinced himself that it wouldn’t be too petty of him to not to talk to Papen for the next three days.

_Almost._

 

* * *

   

Everything got much worse at a startling rate when Adam was in his junior year.

Not for the first time, he woke up to find his hands all wrapped up in pain and completely useless. He didn’t have a choice but to skip his labs as his head fluctuated between too tired and too much pain. He took some aspirin, waited a few hours, and then took some more. Everything felt too foggy and he hated days like this. But more than anything else, it was the guilt that got to him.

There was too much work for Adam to do, too much of his report left unwritten. No aerospace engineering student would willingly miss a day, especially not this late in the term, and Adam could already hear the curious whispers of the others, drawn to his empty workstation like sharks to blood. They all admired each other, of course. They even respected each other on rare occasions. But jealousy was an ugly thing, and there had always been an implicit understanding between them that they would willingly throw each other under the bus at the very first chance. And just like that, it seemed like all those months – years – of catching up that Adam had done was unraveled. Useless. Irrelevant. Inadequate.  

Then there was Ronan whose flight was supposed to arrive late in the afternoon.

When Adam finally submitted to the fact that there was no way he could go to the airport with his hands shaking so badly, he made the inevitable phone call, hating himself as he did so. Adam lied and said that he was running late with his project, and Ronan had to resort to taking the cab on his own, something that they both knew he hated.

It took some time before Adam could finally put down the phone, and his mood was darker than it had been for years by then. Still, he wouldn’t have done it any other way, because telling the truth felt too much like admitting that there really was something wrong, and that was a path that he didn’t want to go down on. Barely reining back his thoughts, Adam took another two pills and slept fitfully.

Thankfully, by the time Ronan arrived at the small apartment Adam was renting just outside of campus, the pain was manageable and Adam had battled his way into a clean shirt. If he was careful enough, he could just about hide the way his hands trembled, and this was enough to make him grateful.

That night, they ordered in some food and talked about Ronan’s plan to expand the farm on his estate, the new workers he had brought on board, and when Aurora Lynch would be moving into one of the main barns that Ronan had turned into a space just for her. When they were done eating, Adam insisted on doing the dishes, trying to keep up with the normalcy. Although Adam pretended otherwise, he could sense Ronan’s narrowed suspicion, a pair of watchful eyes trained on him as he picked up the plates. Even though they had never talked about it, they both knew Ronan had noticed the trouble Adam had with his hands over the years. But addressing the problem felt too much like it was against the rules, and Adam told himself that he had never let himself show his suffering often enough for Ronan to think that there really was something to worry about.

But Ronan had observed enough for a seed to be planted in his head, and worry followed all too naturally.

Adam was doing well until he was three steps away from the sink when he lost his grip on the plates. In a single horrifying moment, he watched them fall to the ground, shattering upon impact. As Adam stared at the carnage, his mind blanked for a second before anger and terror tore through him.

Then he heard Ronan’s voice from a distance behind him. “What the fuck?”

It was enough to pull Adam out of his own head and he remembered to breathe. Still trying to gather himself together, Adam knelt down and started to pick up the pieces, but his fingers were too numb for him to control. He failed the first time, and then the second, and by the third, he found himself exhaling shakily, breaking out in a cold sweat.

Adam felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and there it was - that dreadful worry laced together with a demand: “What’s wrong?”

Adam tried to smile as he tilted his head to look at the other boy. “Nothing. Just an accident.”

Ronan gave him a flat look. “Bullshit.”

Adam turned back to the mess on his floor. “Fine. I had a bad day, alright?”

He could hear the obvious suspicion in Ronan’s voice when he asked, “Why?”

The simple question made Adam shake off the hand on his shoulder. He stood up straight and stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to hide the tremble. “I’m having problems with my project. I know you think it’s stupid so let’s not talk about it, okay?”

Adam hoped he would concede. _Don’t fight me on this_ , he thought. _Don’t fight_.

Thankfully, after a long, searching look, Ronan nodded. “Okay.”

Adam’s eyes flickered back to the mess as he tried to hide his relief. Then he headed for the bathroom, not pausing as he said, “I’ll clean it up later.”

He almost had the door closed behind him when he heard Ronan’s rough reply. “I’ll do it.”

The door clicked shut, and when Adam caught sight of himself in the mirror, it took everything in him not to shatter the glass.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Adam woke at five and prepared for his shift at the garage. There was still numbness in his fingers, and he struggled with his whole routine. By the end of it, Adam was breathing heavily, deeply exhausted.

Before he left, he leaned over to give Ronan a kiss. The other boy blinked awake slowly, voice like gravel when he asked, “Work?”

Adam loved him like this, with all the edges stripped down. Helplessly, Adam started to kiss his jaw, his neck, and his bare shoulder, like he was following an invisible path. “Yeah,” he answered in between. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m renting a car today,” Ronan mumbled as he leaned into Adam’s touch. “Going to see Gansey.”

Tracing the places his lips had been, Adam answered just as quietly, “You don’t need a car to get to Harvard.”

Ronan shrugged and said, “Just in case,” and Adam knew they were both thinking about yesterday.

He made himself pull away after one last kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

Ronan muttered something incoherent and was back to sleep by the time Adam left the place. He walked briskly and managed to catch the usual bus. By the time he made it to Freddie’s, the place was already all lit up, up and running as if it never rested.

Sometimes, when Adam was feeling particularly melancholic, it would hit him hard - how things had changed, but also not really. Here Adam was, in a completely different state, but still elbows deep in grease, fixing cars like he always did. It made him wonder whether this part would ever change – whether it _could_ ever change.

Adam was working on a Toyota when his boss came around. Freddie took one look and asked, words laced with a heavy Bostonian accent, “How much longer?”

Adam answered him with an estimate, and Freddie shook his head. “That’s no good. Customer’s picking it up at eight.”

Adam felt ashamed at his incompetency. “Sorry, sir. I should have worked faster.”

Freddie made a noise behind his throat and nodded at Adam’s hands. “Are they giving you trouble again?”

A month ago, Adam had to be switched to desk duty with Freddie’s wife because his hands had been acting up, and the same thing happened two months before that. Freddie was all too aware of this, and Adam was worried that he was this close to losing his job.

He kept his expression guarded. “Nothing that I can’t handle.”

Freddie made the same noise again. “Have you been to the doctor’s yet?”

A pause. “No, sir.”

Freddie let out a heavy sigh. “Kid, I’m ending your shift right now and you’re going to see a doctor. No, don’t argue with me. Jocelyn’s been chewing me out on this, and I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’ve got better things to do than fight with a woman six months pregnant, alright?”

Adam didn’t want to leave, and he sure as hell didn’t want to see a doctor, but the look on Freddie’s face told him that there was no room for argument. So he conceded, “Yes, sir.”

Freddie nodded, evidently satisfied. “Good. Now, get out of here.”

Adam did as he was told, but he didn’t go to the doctor’s. Not straight away anyway.

First, he took the bus back to his place and walked around the block. When he reached the park nearby, he sat down on one of the wooden benches and stared at his hands, ignoring the world around him. He observed the way they trembled, how the pain traveled from his fingers and palms, all the way up to his elbows. They didn’t look like anything that belonged to him.

After half an hour had passed and he was sure that Ronan had left, Adam made his way back to his apartment to grab some of the cash he had saved up. Then he finally took the bus to one of the clinics in the shit side of town.

Adam remained impassive through it all, even when he realized that the teenage girl in the waiting room with him was a hooker, and a man threw up on his own shoes after coughing uncontrollably for minutes. When Adam was finally called into the consultation room, he tried not to fidget in the plastic seat, staring at the white walls as he walked Dr. Posner through his… _slight_ problem. Whenever he did manage to catch a glimpse of her, she looked bored as she threw in a few questions of her own.

“Okay,” she sighed after a while. “I’m going to need you to do a series of exercises for me.”

She started by flexing Adam’s fingers, then she asked him to make a fist which he couldn’t do. Adam would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t trying to hide how much pain he was in. Dr. Posner made him go through some other motions before she finally stopped, clicking her pen to scribble on his file.

“Right, I’m going to try something else,” she told. “Tell me how it feels.”

Adam wasn’t sure what to expect, so when Dr. Posner pressed down somewhere between his wrist and his elbow, he jolted in pain against his will and tried not to shout.

Staring right at him, she asked, “How does it feel?”

Adam barely gritted out the word “ _Fine_.”

Although she was no longer pressing down on the spot, Dr. Posner did not move her hand away. She looked at him with a flat expression and said, “I’m not asking whether you can stand it if it hurts. I need you to tell me.”

Adam barely had time to breathe before she pressed down again. The pain flared up immediately, more intensely than before. “It burns,” he panted out, trying to move his arm away, but Dr. Posner held on tight.

“Give me a number,” she demanded.

Adam felt close to tears. “I don’t know. Seven – no, eight.”

Mercifully, that made Dr. Posner stop, but she swiftly moved on to repeat the test on his other arm, and they weren’t even halfway through when Adam wanted to stalk out of the room. In that moment, there was so much pain coursing through him that it felt like he was thrown back into Henrietta’s trailer park. In the blink of an eye, he was that young boy again, the one who cowered at his father’s rampant rage.

But as Adam dragged in a shaky breath, his foggy mind registered that it was Dr. Posner’s cool hand on him, not Robert Parrish’s, and he told himself that he was being stupid.

What was pain anyway? Wasn’t it just a pure state of mind? Adam had certainly been through it all before, and if he had to go through it again, he was convinced he could bear it this time, too. Pain, fear, and violence – those were things integrated into him the very day he was born into this world. He would not run. He _would_ bear it.

Adam’s face was damp by the time Dr. Posner stopped. She did not say a word as he clumsily wiped off his tears with the collar of his shirt. She clicked her pen a few times before she finally announced, “Well, we can’t know for sure unless you go to a hospital, but there’s a high chance that you have moderate to severe carpal tunnel syndrome.”

Adam froze. And just like that, his world was off kilter.

God, his hands. His _hands_.

Dr. Posner’s words played in his head on loop before it finally caught on a single word. “Hospital?”

The young doctor leaned back in her chair with an exasperated look on her face. She guessed, “No health insurance?”

Adam hesitated before he answered, “No.”

“Well, there’s not much we can do for you here,” Dr. Posner said after clicking her pen again. “All I can do is tell you to lay off any work that puts pressure on your hands, prescribe you some ibuprofen for the pain, and teach you some exercises that you can do at home, but none of this will work in the long term. You’re going to need to get some splints that we don’t have here, and if your situation declines, you might need physical therapy or surgery. So, like I said, the hospital’s a better option.”

She made it all sound so simple. But hospitals came at a price, and Adam was already adding up the numbers in his head. Even though he had some money saved up over the years, it wasn’t even going to cover half of what he expected needed to be spent.

After a short exchange, Adam left the clinic with his bottle of pills and went back to the apartment. He sat down on the edge of his tiny bed and pressed his face into his knees, feeling completely hopeless and lost.

What was he going to do?

Adam couldn’t go to class like this – he might even have to take a year out. That internship he had been vying for was now a dead dream. He was going to lose his job at the garage, and his apartment too. He was going to lose everything that he had built for so long.

What was he going to _do_?

He was probably going to have to leave Boston, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go. If he went back to Virginia, he wasn’t even sure whether he could get back his old room above the St. Agnes rectory. But he didn’t have the money for any of it – the move, the flight, the rent, the hospital, and the bills. He didn’t have enough of anything.

_What was he going to do?_

Familiar footsteps pulled Adam out of his thoughts, and he quickly jumped off the bed to lock his door.

A pause. “Adam? Is that you?”

Leaning back against the door, Adam answered back in a tight voice, “Yeah. I just need a moment. Can you come back later?”

Ronan made an irritated sound. “Come on, man. This isn’t funny.”

Adam could hear Ronan’s own set of keys jingle this time, so he said again, “I mean it. I want to be alone.” Because Adam was so damn scared, and he could feel anger growing in the face of his utter helplessness. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost it. He needed to be alone. He _had to_ be alone.

“What the fuck are you –”

“Just drive around –”

“Don’t tell me what –”

“I just need to _think_ and –”

“Are you _fucking_ trying to –”

 “Jesus fucking Christ, Ronan, _just leave me alone_.”

The silence was deafening, and for a while there, Adam forgot to breathe. It seemed as if his body didn’t even want to, and by the time he could, he was hyperventilating, thoroughly defenseless and exhausted. After minutes had passed, Adam made himself wipe off the damp corners of his eyes, and slowly, he turned to unlock the door.

Ronan was still standing there.

“I told you to go,” Adam said weakly.

The boy on the other side of the door was completely unfazed. Somberly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Adam didn’t answer. Instead, he left the door wide open and headed back to bed. He sat down on the rumpled sheets and listened to Ronan turn the locks after he got in. Ronan hesitated for a second before finally settling down next to Adam, bed springs squeaking a little under his weight.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

When Adam couldn’t take it anymore, he folded his tired body and rested his head on Ronan’s lap. He felt warm hands run through his hair almost instantly. After that, the silence didn’t last long.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Adam swallowed hard and pressed his face into Ronan’s thigh. Finally, he forced the words out: “I saw the doctor just now.”

Ronan’s hands paused but he did not say anything.

“I have carpal tunnel syndrome,” Adam continued, and it felt so strange to say those words out loud himself – it hurt even more than his hands did in that moment. It had to be his hands, didn’t it? Of course it was his fucking hands.

When Adam could speak again, his voice was rough with the need to cry. “Ronan, I don’t know what to do. I can’t go to the hospital and… and I’ll have to stop school. I’ll lose my job too and I just –I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

Suddenly, Ronan tugged on Adam’s hair so that they would look at each other. “You have me,” he said, meaning one thing and the other.

Adam shook his head. “I can’t.”

Ronan scowled. “Why the fuck not?”

“I just can’t, okay?”

“Fine, if it makes you feel better, you can pay me back.”

Adam shook his head again, not really knowing how to put it into words.

Accepting Ronan’s offer was against everything that he had ever stood for. It was property, debt, and ownership. It was losing himself one piece at a time, and he would be watching it all disappear. He thought about all the money, and where it was supposed to go. Then he thought about how it wasn’t just him having to give up something important, and everything hurt so much more.

“You’ve been planning on expanding the farm for about a year now.”

Ronan breathed out raggedly. “It can wait.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut. “It shouldn’t. Especially not for me.”

Ronan trailed his fingers along Adam’s jaw. His touch was gentle as opposed to his words. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Adam refused to open his eyes, afraid he would be swayed by whatever was written on Ronan’s face. “Don’t make me do this,” he pleaded.

Ronan’s voice was just as quiet as his when he said, “Do you need me to beg? Is that it?”

Adam shook his head, trying to hide his face again, but Ronan’s hands were coaxing him to stop. He knew Ronan wanted him to open his eyes, but he simply refused to do so.

Then Adam felt Ronan’s lips on his forehead, something he had never done before, and it felt so sad that everything in him seemed to break. “Come home,” Ronan breathed out softly. “Come home with me.”

Adam’s body was shaking now, a violent destruction. What else was there for him to do? Was there even a choice in the first place? Was there _ever_ a choice for him?

Finally, Adam let himself open his eyes, and he gave the only answer there was for him to give.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Adam was staring at his empty apartment before leaving for the airport.

He was already running late when he fumbled with the key that no longer belonged to him, and when he heard the familiar click of the locks turning, it sounded too much like finality. 

 

* * *

 

Adam wasn’t depressed.

He knew Ronan thought otherwise, but he wasn’t. He really _wasn’t_.

Sure, he barely left the bedroom ever since he moved to the Barns, and sure, he pretended to sleep whenever Ronan came up to ask whether he was going to eat, but that didn’t mean he was depressed. If he was depressed, he wouldn’t even have gone to the hospital with Ronan for a series of tests that left him red-eyed and panting once again, and if he was depressed, he wouldn’t have bothered freelancing over the internet late at night, even if it meant wearing his splints more often than he really ought to.

It felt strange for Adam to be able to stay in bed so much these days. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that he was in an alternate universe, that he wasn’t feeling as useless as he did some place else. He did this frequently, and it made it infinitely easier to pretend he was asleep whenever someone decided to check on him. Ronan and Adele, Aurora’s nurse who also worked as the housekeeper, usually left him to his own devices, never saying anything when they paused in the doorway, but there was an unexpected break in the routine on one gray afternoon.

Adam was watching the rain fall with his back to the door, arms limp under the warm covers. The window was left open from last night, and the room smelt like spring and damp dirt – it smelt like Adam’s childhood.

The floorboards creaked. “Hey,” Ronan said in a low voice, “Gansey’s downstairs.”

For a moment, Adam wanted to laugh at the simple fact that Ronan even bothered letting him know, because they both knew it was ages since he last spoke to Gansey. Their friendship was a thing in the past now, even though it wasn’t for the lack of trying.

When they had first moved to Massachusetts, they had met up once, and it was an hour of stilted conversation with both of them trying to pretend that everything was exactly the same as it had been in Henrietta. Adam tried talking to Blue after that, but it was even more awkward with her repeatedly bringing up things like “Did Gansey tell you…” and “I was just saying this to Gansey…” And when Adam tried meeting Gansey a second time, there was an even greater distance between them - an obvious one. There was nothing to hold them together anymore. Not even Ronan.

Adam remained quiet, but when he realized Ronan simply refused to go away, he answered hoarsely, “I’m tired.”

The floorboards creaked again. “You’ve been in bed all day.”

Adam sighed. “I’m not depressed.”

“Then prove it,” Ronan said with a steely edge. “Fuck this shit, alright? You barely eat, you never leave this room, and did you really think that I haven’t realized you’ve been working every night? I just - I can’t make you care about yourself, but whatever you think you are, you’re not, okay? So, you need to stop, alright? _Just fucking stop_.”

Adam froze under the covers. His chest felt too damn tight, raw with an unreleased sob. He made himself concentrate on breathing evenly, as though he had fallen back to sleep. Ronan wasn’t fooled, of course, but he got the message. Eventually he returned downstairs, and when Adam was truly alone, the room had never felt as cavernous as it did in that single moment.

 

* * *

 

When evening came around, Adam listened to the seconds tick by before sitting up. He allowed himself a moment of hesitation before getting out of bed and heading downstairs. He could hear the sound of cutlery scraping over a plate even before he reached the kitchen.

They weren’t expecting him, of course. In fact, they didn’t even realize he was there until Aurora finally looked up and saw him lingering in the doorway. She smiled at him kindly, genuinely pleased to see him. “Adam.”

Ronan stilled but recovered quickly, clearly making a point of not looking up from his plate. Adam didn’t blame him. If Ronan resented him, he deserved every bit of it. Still, he made himself return Aurora’s smile, albeit awkwardly. “Ma’am, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Nonsense,” Aurora replied and pointed at the empty seat next to her with a jerky motion. Her coordination was getting better after being in a coma for years, but there were still signs of weakness here and there. “Come, join us. We’ve missed you.”

As Adam settled at his place, Adele muttered in rapid fire French under her breath, striding to the cupboard and settling everything that he needed before him with envious efficiency. She wouldn’t let him struggle with filling his plate himself. Instead, she gave Adam a stern expression that left him flustered, and asked, “Potato? Yes? No? Pasta? What about beef?”

Aurora kept up with the conversation while they ate. Ronan grunted a response from time to time, and Adam tried to answer as best he could while concentrating on keeping hold of his fork. Whenever Adam had to take a break, he would watch Aurora graciously accept Adele’s help when she needed it. Sometimes he felt a spark of irrational jealousy – he wished he could be the kind of person that she was. He wished acceptance came easy for him, too.

When the table was cleared, Adam was the first to leave. He went straight to the bedroom while Ronan walked Aurora back to her place and Adele left for the day. He was sitting on the bed with only the table lamp illuminating the room when Ronan walked in.

Closing the door behind him, Ronan headed for the dresser and started changing into a pair of gray sweatpants. “You’re still up,” he commented without turning around, his tattoo twisting with every movement.

“Yeah,” Adam answered softly. He took in a deep breath and then continued, “I’m not going to freelance anymore.”

Ronan still refused to face Adam. After a long silence, he finally said, “Promise?” And although he tried to hide it, there was childish hope in that single word.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at Adam’s lips. “I promise,” he told.

Adam’s heart warmed when Ronan finally turned around to look at him. He watched as Ronan slid into bed next to him, keeping a careful distance that Adam yearned to cross. Choosing his next words carefully, Adam said, “This has been hard for me. But I know that it has been hard for you too. I’ll… I’ll try to be better.”

The way Ronan stared made Adam nervous, but when Ronan finally closed the gap and kissed him, it all seemed to wash away. It was moments like this that scared Adam the most. It scared him how much he was willing to let go – his pride and his principles – for letting go was the only way he got around showing that he cared. Fervently. Irrevocably.

Ronan spoke in actions, in not speaking but doing – showing. But Adam only knew how to give up pieces of himself, and he was still learning how to make it a gift instead of a surrender. It wasn’t easy, and it would never be, because these pieces guarded him and built him into something that he understood. Being with Ronan tore at his very foundation and it was all so damn terrifying. Yet Adam was willing to do it again and again – a kind of foolishness that he would never truly understand.

When they finally had to breathe, their bodies remained close, unwilling to part. As Adam slowly dragged his lips over Ronan’s neck, they could both feel the way the air was charged with unnamed desire. It had been a long time since they’d last fucked, not once since Adam was officially diagnosed. But their wants and their needs were obvious now, and Adam didn’t have time to ask before he was pushed on his back and Ronan was in his lap in one smooth movement.

Instinctively, Adam’s sore hands went to his hip, not grasping but simply seeking contact. But to his surprise, Ronan moved them away, resting them on the bed instead. In a low voice, he said, “Don’t touch.”

Adam turned skeptical. “Are you sure you –”

Flushing, Ronan answered tightly, “Yes.”

Before Adam could argue, Ronan leaned down to kiss him deeply, successfully disconnecting his train of thoughts. It all moved quickly from there, and that night, they learned they could still make each other alive with their hands to themselves. They burned like an open flame, breathing out a litany of half-finished names. They were completely unrestrained, and by the end of the night, they were thankful that Aurora had moved out of the farmhouse, because the amount of blatant sex noises that they had made was just shy of embarrassing.

As they lay there panting on the dirty sheets, Adam couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss. With it, he tried to convey everything that he couldn’t say, simply hoping Ronan would understand.

From the way Ronan looked at him afterward, and from the way he moved to brush his lips over his knuckles in a careful gesture, Adam liked to think that he did.

 

* * *

 

The next time Adele had to go to the grocery store, Adam asked whether he could follow.

He saw that his question caught her by surprise, but she grabbed her keys anyway and said, “I will drive.” Yet, despite her gruff attitude, she waited patiently as Adam struggled with his shoes. He wanted to smile at how contrary she was, but he knew it would not be the least bit appreciated. Adam wondered whether it was the reason why Ronan chose to hire her in the first place.

They stopped at Harry’s, a small place that was closest to Singer’s Falls and near Antietam Lane. It was a store that Adam used to frequent growing up in Henrietta, sometimes without enough money to cover the things that he needed to buy. As Adam wandered the aisles alone, separated from Adele as she went through her list, he saw that not much had changed after all, but at least there was no longer a flickering light in aisle three. That used to annoy him more than it really should.

Adam was looking at the milk cartons when he heard the wheels of a shopping cart squeal to a stop. Assuming he was in the way, he started to turn to apologize, only to be greeted by his mother’s face.

They stood there staring at each other in the chilly aisle, and Adam felt himself start to shake. He was afraid that his father would round the corner despite knowing full well that he’d never once been to the grocery store together with his mother. No, what Adam knew did not matter. He was suddenly just a young and stupid boy again.

_Don’t speak. Don’t tell. Do you understand?_

The message she had left at St. Agnes when he had first moved in flashed before his eyes. Adam willed it to stop, but his mind wouldn’t leave him alone. Somehow, the words did more damage than his father’s fists ever did.

_Adam, this is your momma._

He tried to look away but he couldn’t. He really should look away.

_If you’re a grateful child, you will send us some money and maybe your daddy will forgive you._

Look away. Look away. Look away.

_This mess is your fault. You wouldn’t be anything without us._

Somewhere nearby, Adele called out, “Mr. Parrish?”

That was enough for Adam to finally break the contact. Just as quickly, the shopping cart whirled around and squeaked in another direction. Adam tried to hide how frazzled he truly felt when he turned to face Adele, but from her expression, it was obvious he had failed. Still, she knew better than to comment on anything, and he was immensely thankful for it.

Adam was still in a daze when they left the store. He did not realize he had been searching for his mother until he was in the car, but it did not matter. She was nowhere in sight.

When they were back at the Barns, Adam, like a man on death row, walked to the couch and sat down gingerly. He did not know how long he had been staring at absolutely nothing when Ronan dropped down next to him, smelling like sweat and grass from his day at the farm.

Ronan was the one to break the long silence. “I told Adele not to go to Harry’s anymore.”

Adam wasn’t surprised that Adele had told. He could also hear the underlying meaning that was meant for him: _Don’t go to Harry’s anymore._

Adam didn’t answer. Minutes later, Ronan’s lips pressed against the edge of his shoulder, and he felt more than heard Ronan mumble, “Are you okay?”

Adam thought about Ronan’s question carefully. Turning slightly, he returned a kiss on the top of the other boy’s head. It was a while before he finally settled on an answer.

“I will be.”

In that moment, it felt enough.

 

* * *

 

Adam decided to go down to the farm himself on one of his good days.

It was raining the whole of yesterday – the stubborn mud on his shoes was evidence of that – and Ronan’s workers had to make up for lost time as a consequence. It was almost six, but the sun was still spreading its light across the land, turning everything soft in a golden hue. There were signs everywhere that summer was truly on its way.

Adam stood staring at the faraway mountains when a whinny broke his thoughts. He made his way to the stables, expecting to find Ronan there, but instead, there was an unfamiliar boy about a year or two younger than him stacking hay, marking the end of a day’s work.

Adam was about to leave when he was noticed. Without any other choice, he greeted, “Hello.”

The boy gave him a long, curious look that was almost rude. He asked, “You from the main house?” His voice was so thick with a Southern accent that it made Adam extremely aware of his own. Immediately self-conscious, he wished to speak as little as possible, so he simply responded with a tight nod.

Suddenly, the boy smiled. “You must be the boss’s mister.”

The words made Adam’s skin crawl, and his lips flattened into a thin line. He was about to make up some excuse to leave when the boy walked over and slapped on his back in a friendly manner.

“Name’s Peter,” he said. “Been wondering when we’d see you around and all. Heard you moved in a while ago. You’re like a ghost or something.”

Peter guided Adam out of the stables, and they stopped a few feet away from the entrance. Adam watched as Peter started patting down his pockets before finally pulling out a pack of smokes. He shook his head when he was offered, prompting Peter to say, “Good man.” He lit his cigarette in a practiced manner before continuing, “I really should quit.”

Adam smiled wryly. “That’s what they all say.”

Peter snorted. “Damn right.” He took in another long drag. “Got a kid on the way, though. The doc says that the smoke’s bad and all.”

The thing about the baby did not surprise Adam. Instead, it made him wonder how many of the people he grew up with around the trailer park already had families of their own, only to become their parents, repeating history again and again. It felt too much like lying when he said, “Congratulations.”

Peter shrugged. “Might be a good thing. Might be a bad thing. My brother hates me for it. At least I’ve got that in common with the boss.” His words had a hard edge to them, not unlike Ronan whenever the subject of Declan was brought up. This single point of connection made him warm up to Peter a little.

Adam asked, “Did you grow up around here?” He knew that the answer was no. They would have at least seen each other if Peter had, and he would have known what happened to Adam – what Adam did. They wouldn’t even be talking if that were the case.

“Nah,” Peter replied, scratching the back of his head. “Moved to Antietam from Charleston about a year ago. Tough crowd here, but I guess you wouldn’t know that.”

It was a meaningless joke, a naïve one at that, but Adam couldn’t bring himself to smile back politely. Peter must have thought that he led some kind of privileged life, that his bloodline ran as pure as a Lynch or a Gansey, and this made his insides turn.

Adam tried asking casually, “Have they said anything about you working here?”

Peter shrugged again. “Plenty of folks say plenty of things. But folks talk ‘cause that’s what they do, ain’t it? They curse me for working for a raven boy, but the job pays well and the boss ain’t that bad. Why should I care what folks say?”

It took a special kind of courage to stand up to the prejudice that ran rampant in the trailer park, and Adam knew that well enough. It was the reason why hiring workers was not an easy task for Ronan, and he always did it carefully, selectively. More so than ever, Adam admired the boy standing next to him, skin toughened by more than just the sun.

Peter suddenly called out, “Hey, boss.”

Adam turned and took in Ronan’s figure heading toward them. He saw Ronan’s eyes linger on him before narrowing into a glare at what Peter held between his fingers. “What did I tell you last time?”

Peter crushed the cigarette with the sole of his shoe and held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Nowhere near your horse this time, boss. Anyway, I’m off the clock.”

Ronan frowned. “How’s Chainsaw?”

“About to foal in a week or two. Nothing to worry about.” Peter gave them a sly look and started to back away. “I better leave you two to it, then. See ya tomorrow, richie-rich.”

“Keep walking, honky-tonk,” Ronan yelled back. When he saw the look on Adam’s face, he mourned, “Not my best, I know.”

“You might be losing your touch,” Adam remarked, earning an elbow to the stomach. “Why do I have a feeling that he thinks we’re mauling each other right now?”

Ronan looked at him with mock seriousness. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d get grass in my hair.”

They never ended up fucking outside the stables for the world to see. But in the bedroom? Well, that was another story.

 

* * *

 

It was good for a while, until it wasn’t.

Noah had the misfortune of dropping by after Adam’s visit to the hospital which ended on a low note with increased medication for the pain. Adam tried not to worry even as his arms cramped up, but Ronan was less subtle with his frustration, scowling all the way home.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Noah commented without tact as Adam cleared the dining table strewn with papers from his new job at a school for emotionally disturbed children. Adam was just getting used to being driven around by Adele, even learning a little bit of French from all the grumbling she did under her breath. He was so close to getting the hang of his new routine that the meeting with the doctor became more than just a disappointing bump on the road.

“Fuck you, Czerny,” Ronan yelled furiously, slamming the front door on his way out.

Adam frowned. Ronan had forgotten his coat.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”

Shrugging, Adam replied, “Maybe he’s pissed at the marks you left on the driveway again.” His words succeeded at making Noah flush. Everyone knew what a terrible driver Noah was. It was a damn miracle that he still had his license.

Red-faced, Noah rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

Adam sighed. “We just came back from the hospital, that’s all.” He went to the kitchen and checked the refrigerator, frowning as he did so. Matthew was just here the day before, and that boy had managed to clear off half of what they had like a horrifying machine. Adele had the day off and they were supposed to fend for themselves. Adam was not much of a cook, but he knew someone who was.

Noah leaned against the counter and asked, “You okay?”

As Adam started pulling out the ingredients, he answered, “I’m hanging in there. Are you back for long?”

Noah never was. In fact, he hadn’t been for years. He was a restless spirit, hopping from country to country, only returning to Virginia on random occasions without any notice like an uninvited ghost. “I’m heading out on Monday, actually.”

“Where to?”

“Iceland. I heard that it’s nice this time of the year.”

Adam started poking at the meat, unsure whether it looked alright. “How long do you plan to go on like this?”

Noah sighed. “Who knows? Maybe the next seven years of my life? What am I going to do if I decide to stay anyway? Run for office?”

That made Adam laugh. “You wouldn’t run for office.”

Noah snorted. “But Gansey would.”

Surprised, Adam stared. “Gansey’s running for office?”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. He’s too young. Helen is.”

“Jesus,” Adam breathed out. The thought of it alone was already terrifying.

Noah hummed in agreement. “Gansey’s running her campaign, though.”

The surprises never seemed to end. “Really? Did Blue chew him out for it?”

“Not at all,” Noah answered, grabbing an apple from the basket without asking, and biting into it noisily. “I said the same thing the last time we talked and she got all offended about it. I think she’s quite close to Helen now. She was saying things like taking action and making a difference. Made me feel bad about sitting on my ass.”

A sympathetic noise escaped Adam. “Gansey in politics,” he mused. “I guess people do change after all.”

Noah shrugged. “Not really. You’re here. So is Ronan.”

That made Adam pause. He had been thinking about his time here at the Barns – how comfortable he felt in his own skin for the first time in years. Virginia finally felt like home to him, and he was learning how to love it in return. Leaving suddenly felt inconceivable to him, and he was still trying to understand what this meant for him.

For a while, Adam said nothing and the only sound in the kitchen was Noah chewing. Then he went over to the cupboards and pulled out a large pan. Turning around, he shoved it into Noah’s hands.

The other boy was obviously taken aback. “What are you doing?”

“Meatloaf,” Adam answered, decisively. “It’s Ronan’s favorite.”

 

* * *

 

Adam was dozing on the couch when Ronan walked in, beer in hand.

It was a rough day at physical therapy, and Adam’s condition wasn’t anywhere near stabilizing. In fact, it only seemed to be getting worse. For nights, he had jolted awake in pain, waking Ronan even though he desperately tried not to. A week ago, the doctor had finally brought up the subject of surgery, but Adam had made Ronan promise not to talk about it. Not for now, at least.

The fireplace was crackling even though winter was supposed to be over, and Adam’s body felt stiff as Ronan maneuvered him around so that he was settled between his legs, back pressed into Ronan’s chest. Without a word, Ronan turned on the television and the theme song from James Bond blasted from the speakers. Fifteen minutes into the movie, Adam thought it was all more dramatic than he remembered, and he told Ronan as much.

Without moving his eyes away from the screen, Ronan asked, “Do you want me to change it?”

Adam shifted, wincing as he did so. “I’m not watching HGTV with you again.”

Naturally, that was what they settled on anyway, but to be fair, they did less watching and more arguing instead.

“You can’t hang a crib from the ceiling,” Adam said, horrified.

“I can if I want to,” Ronan shot back.

It was such a Ronan-like response that Adam just rolled his eyes. He said, drily, “I fear the day you procreate.”

Ronan glared. “Fuck off. I’ll have a kid if I want to.”

Ronan wasn’t wrong exactly, but the entire conversation was so ridiculous that Adam couldn’t help but laugh, and maybe the exhaustion had something to do with it. Adam turned a little fond at the look on the other boy’s face. Gingerly, he lifted Ronan’s hand to press an innocent kiss on the palm, but before he could do so, the leather wristbands slid down, and Adam saw the network of scars underneath.

The mere sight of them made Adam feel as though he was dying even as he breathed.

Ronan stilled behind him. He tried to pull away, but Adam wouldn’t let go of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Adam choked out, “for not being there.”

Ronan jerked away his arm forcefully at those words. He turned Adam’s head to the side in an angry motion so that they were looking each other in the eye. “You were there,” he said, with so much conviction that Adam couldn’t bear it. He started to turn away only to be stopped. “You were there,” Ronan repeated. “You were always there.”

Adam was embarrassed to feel his eyes grow damp. He wondered whether affection was ever supposed to burn so vigorously in one’s chest, whether it was supposed to make it so much harder to breathe – a little like dying, even. And when they kissed, it felt too much like pressing himself down the sharp end of a sword.

But oh, what a way it was to go.

 

* * *

 

The day after Adam decided to have the surgery, he took Ronan out on a date.

To be honest, he was afraid that it would turn out to be a bad idea. They hadn’t done this in a while, and it was obvious that they were both still mulling over what the doctor had said about the risks involved. But Adam wanted to do something nice for Ronan for once – something that the other boy could properly remember him by.

The waiter was staring as he took down their orders, his eyes lingering especially on Ronan. At first, it set Adam on edge. They had taken care to drive out to somewhere less conservative, but one could never be too careful. However, the longer the waiter stood there, the sooner Adam realized that his gaze was not with malice but raw interest.

“I think he hates me,” Adam declared when they were finally alone.

Ronan was obviously confused. “Who?”

“The waiter,” Adam answered patiently. “I think he’s this close to strangling me and winning your hand. And by winning your hand, I mean ravaging you on this table.”

There was no way Ronan could hide his blush. “Don’t be ridiculous. They probably haven’t wiped down this table in five years.”

Adam couldn’t contain a laugh. He asked, genuinely curious, “Did you really not notice?”

Ronan flushed harder. “No. I was looking at you, dumbass.”

Now it was Adam’s turn to blush. Still, he tried to cover it by assuming a sarcastic tone: “You say the sweetest things.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. “I have a knife and I know how to use it.”

“I should hope so,” Adam answered back smoothly. “There’s a fork there too if you need it.”

Before Ronan could fully contemplate wielding his cutlery in disapproving ways, the waiter arrived at their table with their food. A smile tugged at Adam’s lips as he watched Ronan pick at the tablecloth with studied disinterest. The waiter hung around a little longer than he really needed to before moving on to a family of four.

Adam placed his shaky hand tentatively on top of Ronan’s, a serious expression on his face. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Worry flashed over Ronan’s eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “Really? The fish just arrived.”

Adam ignored that. “I won’t make it back to MIT in time,” he told.

Ronan’s shoulders slumped a little. “I know, but you can take another year out, can’t you?”

“I can,” Adam answered truthfully. “But I won’t.”

Ronan was obviously stunned. “What do you mean you won’t?”

Adam shrugged as if he hadn’t been turning this over his head every hour of every day for weeks now. “I mean I’m not going back. I’ve started the paperwork for a transfer to UVA.”

“You want to stay here?” Ronan enunciated each word slowly, as if the entire notion was as impossible as colonizing the moon. “Here as in Virginia?”

Adam stroked his thumb over Ronan’s skin even though it hurt to do so. “I want to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

There was an inexplicable expression on Ronan’s face before he made an odd sniffing sound. “I’ll always want you.”

“Even if the surgery leaves me paralyzed?” Adam joked in poor taste in an attempt to mask his own concern.

When Ronan pulled away his hand, Adam started to think that he had ruined the night, but Ronan simply picked up his drink and replied, “Don’t be an idiot. I’ll still want you when your fucking arms fall off.”

Adam smiled in total relief. A bit shyly, he confessed, “You’re too good to me.”

Ronan rolled his eyes even as his lips started to curve upward. “Say that again when you’re wiping my ass in fifty years.”

Even though it wasn’t phrased in the most ideal manner, it was still the closest thing to forever that they’d ever talked about, and Adam’s heart swelled with the sweetness of it, as thick as honey. He spoke carefully, “I know I haven’t said the words to you yet.”

Ronan had said it a few times himself, but always expected nothing in return. Now, he simply rested his eyes on Adam in an assured manner. “I don’t care. We have plenty of time.”

Although Adam was thankful for Ronan’s understanding, not for the very first time, he wished that he was brave enough to voice out his thoughts – that Ronan’s name was carved into every single one of his ribs. That he would rather lose everything than lose him. That he probably didn’t deserve this kind-hearted Catholic boy, and that he was selfish for making him his home. _I love you_ , he thought. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

Someday, though, Adam thought he might finally be able to say those words. But tonight, he just smiled softly in agreement.

“We have plenty of time.”

 

* * *

 

They were right, of course.

Adam said the words for the first time after the surgery – a whispered confession.

He said it again throughout his recovery – a fond reminder.

He said it after each impulsive fight, each teasing remark, each stony silence, each absent-minded rambling, each irritated retort, each painful departure, and each warm return.

He said it again and again and again, and every time, it still felt as holy as the very first.

They had all the time in the world, and they were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [The Hand I Want to Hold Forever (Is Yours) by dhampir72](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1477525).
> 
> Title from [a song](https://youtu.be/lQl_Y6XgEgM) by Gregory Alan Isakov.
> 
> So, there's been some stuff going around the internet, and I was seriously close to deleting Incandescent because of it. But instead, I wrote this monster of a horror show because I'm passive aggressive that way.
> 
> In all honesty, this will most likely be my last contribution to the fandom, at least until The Raven King comes out. And after that, who knows where we'll be? 
> 
> I just want to thank everyone who took the time out to leave nice comments. I know that I haven't been replying, but they still mean a lot to me and have helped me through some rough times. 
> 
> Meanwhile, you can find me on [tumblr](http://juderagnarsson.tumblr.com).


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